WADDUP NERD?
by LittleBirdieChan
Summary: ". . . abrasive. Deranged, And VERY vulgar. Those were the words I carefully chose to describe the old guy stumbling into the Mystery Shack."
1. His Name Is Rick Sanchez

**ENJOY ~**

* * *

 **(DIPPER PINES):**

Located in Gravity Falls Oregon is The Mystery Shack, a tourist attraction that was also a tourist trap. Lucky for the guy that was running the place, unlucky for the people who ended up with empty pockets.

It was late afternoon. Almost closing time.

I got saddled with sweeping duty in the gift shop. Not that I was complaining. I had help, but the help was utterly useless sometimes. They were suppose to be doing inventory and organize the merchandise. Instead they threw a random dance party every other ten minutes. I'd blame the teenaged girl at the cashier counter, but it's expected from her. Wendy tends to slack off every chance she got, but my annoying twin sister Mabel, & our friendly handy man, Soos, severely encouraged her to do so. I didn't want to say anything fear that I'd be a total buzz kill, but if my Grunkle (Great Uncle) Stan shows up in a bad mood . . . well then CRUD. That usually leaves him kicking everyone out & leaving me stacked with all the chores.

Oddly enough, that didn't happen.

What did happen, was Stan told everyone off, saying that he'd cut their paychecks if they didn't go back to work. Which was kind funny because none of us got paid either way. Stan then angrily disappeared in his office. Wendy went back to the cashier counter instantly becoming bored.. Soos went to fix a leaky pipe somewhere in the Shack, & Mabel's two friends showed up squealing about something on the cover of some magazine running off to the back porch. As for me. Well. I half heartedly continued sweeping the floors of the gift shop. Feeling awkward because it was just Wendy and me. All I heard was the tapping of her fingertips on her phone. I gradually stared at her at her when she wasn't looking. I liked the way she would always make herself comfortable. Leaning on her seat, throwing her feet up next to the cash register, & the way her long red hair complimented her green flannel shirt. Wendy caught me gawking at her and waved. Like an idiot, I fumbled over my words. Before I could even form a sentence . . .

. . . somebody abruptly bursted into the scene.

Someone very abrasive. Very deranged. And _VERY_ vulgar. Those words were carefully chosen to describe the old guy stumbling into the Mystery Shack.

He was rather tall, thin, somewhat pale, & rawboned, with wild stringy hair sticking all over the place. His eyes were very haggard, dark, & dilated. He looked like a crazy scientist who had one too many of his experiments gone wrong, wearing white lab coat that reached down to his knees decked with burnt holes of all sizes. I can't even begin to explain the thick mixture of smells he gave off. It was either cigarette smoke, motor oil, possibly bad breath or _alcohol_.

He distinctly reminded me of my Grunkle Stan. Only without the big belly & sappy jokes. The lanky old guy was a lot louder, though. Seriously obnoxious, & extremely rude. He spat out very foul language every chance he got. No. Really! Like. Right out in the open! Most of his sentences consisted of dropping the F bomb. That, & most things mothers would seriously wash your mouth out with soap. He also had this constant stutter to his speech. Which made me wonder if it was a possible effect from being severely intoxicated with a heavy alcoholic beverage, or if he had an actual condition, like a tic, or something.

The old guy thrashes every little thing as he lurchingly steps forward, he almost topples over the cashier counter. He broke a glass jar with a fake brain spilling out. Practically terrorizing my friend Wendy. He slobbered gibberish nonsense demanding to see somebody.

"Y-You . . . RED!" He savagely grunts. Only to let out a low nasty belch. "Wh-Where the hell is he, red? Tell that son of a bitch to get his ass down here. I-I mean NOW!"

Wendy reluctantly glances at my direction. I only shrugged clutching the broom very tightly as I continued sweeping.

"Um." Was all Wendy could manage. She knitted a perfectly good eyebrow at the old man, who apparently started to dribble a long string of drool. "Are you okay, dude?" Wendy cautiously asked. The guy went perfectly still for a good five long minutes.

Then his demeanor totally changes as he suddenly seized Wendy by her upper arms. This caused her to yell, & drop her cellphone to the floor. The old guy violently started to shake her. Yelling, "Y-YOU TELL ME WHERE THAT BASTARD IS. OR I'LL . . . I-I'LL," He eructed another digusting belch.

"HEY!" I yelled back, prepared to gut the guy with the plastic end of the broom. "LET HER GO YOU FREAK!"

He got the better of me after I lunged forward. Somehow, some way, the old guy managed to break the broom in two with a single foot, then snatches me, as he brought me to a headlock with both of his bony arms.

Agile. Who'd of thought?

He continued by shouting again, "I-I'll strangle this damn kid with my bare arms. I SWEAR TO GOD RED! I-I'll choke him!"

Just to prove he wasn't joking he gave my neck a good tight squeeze. Forcing me to make this gargled sound that was really uncomfortable.

Wendy cries again. "OH MY GOSH. DIPPER!"

"Where the hell is he red? W-WHERE IS HE?"

"I don't know man! Who are you talking about-"

"Uh-oh! D-Do you hear that red?" Silence. Then another nauseating burp.

It takes a person to faint around thirteen to fourteen seconds in a chokehold. Seven to eight seconds to see dark spots. That was when I began to feeling extremely lightheaded, as I began to go limp.

I could hear the old guy again.

"Me neither. B-Best be looking for the guy I want, red." He burps. "B-Before I decide to stop this kid's blood flowing to his head, red! Y-You HEAR me, red?"

Wendy yells at her loudest this time. Quickly trailing off with a, "MR. PINES! MR. PINES!" But then I hear her take in a sharp breath.

There was a solid silence before a heavy calm voice fills the air. "Rick Sanchez. Let go of my nephew. THIS. INSTANT."

* * *

 **NOTE: This story goes to all the people who have written a GRAVITY FALLS/RICK & MORTY crossover. I really don't mean to offend anyone when I finish this sentence. BUT! ****Ready? Okay.**

 **Here it goes.**

 **YOU GUYS SUCK AT WRITING A RICK & MORTY STORY! (RAGES LIKE A TRIANGLE DREAM DEMON ON A REALLY BAD DAY) -HUFFS-**

 **There. I wrote it. I can't take it back. I couldn't find ONE decent RICK & MORTY crossover. Think you readers can find one for me? Send me a link or something. One that has Rick IN character. One that has an actual PLOT. One that has DETAILS, & one that doesn't send me, or anyone for that matter, snoozing. All right? ****GOOD. Feel free to criticize my work. Just be gentle. I have feelings too,** **you know. I think I'm gonna lay down now.**

 **COMMENT, FAVORITE, FOLLOW, SHARE, or WHATEVER. It doesn't really matter, but it'll be GREATLLY appreciated. THANKS FOR READING!**


	2. Sick

**ENJOY ~**

* * *

 **(DIPPER PINES):**

I thought that the dark bulky figure of a man standing in front of Wendy was my Grunkle Stan, but then I caught a glimpse of his right hand holding a bright orange gun. He had a sixth finger.

"Great Uncle Ford . . . " I spoke in a rasping voice.

"WADDUP NERD?" Yelled the old guy named Rick, ceasing to loosen the grip on my neck. "H-How long has it frickin' been?" He burped.

"I said it once, & I'll say it again. LET GO OF MY NEPHEW!"

Rick scoffs. "Or what? Y-You'll shoot me with a fucking tranquilizer dart? Spare me, you old bastard-"

There was a very sudden sharp _WHOOSH._ Everything in my field of vision became blurry. I blacked out.

* * *

I had a strange dream.

I was being chased in the dark by a hysterically large, very bright yellow question mark. I was running up a spiral staircase reaching for a door knob to an antique door at an agonizing slow speed. There was a humongous _THUMP._ I nearly trip over the staircase's railing. The question mark seemed to have fallen flat on the ground below the stairs and it was oozing out glow in the dark green stuff. Standing above the question mark was a tall, rawboned, old man pointing a smoking finger gun. The old man I've come to know as Rick Sanchez. He points at me and says, "Bang."

I sat straight up.

Blinking away floating dark spots from my sight, I stared up at a creepy, dark, wooden arched up ceiling, & then at a golden, glistening, triangular window that centered the place. I was in the bedroom I shared with my sister back in the Mystery Shack. It was evening judging by the way the sun gave the room tinges of orange & crimson. I slid my feet off to the side of my creaky mattress & crept a hand behind my neck, only to realize it was wrapped in gauze.

"What the . . . ?" I muttered. I abruptly stood wanting to get to the mirror in front of Mabel's bed, but then immediately regretted it, because a severe wave of nausea hit me like a ton of bricks. I coughed a lot of thick salavia into a waste bin conveniently placed next to my bed. "Aw." I groaned at my pale reflection. "You don't look so good."

I then started to notice a few things I haven't noticed before. Bandages. One on my upper left arm & the other on my right elbow. The bandages had been drowned by glitter patterns. I clicked my tongue. Mabel. I glanced back at my bed, slid half way off my mattress was an old black blazer with shoulder pads. Not mine. Wouldn't be caught in that. Grunkle Stan's. Probably.

I trudged down into the kitchen. Only to be tackled with a really suffocating hug.

"MABEL GET OFF ME!"

"OH. MY. GOSH!" She practically screeched into my ear. "YOU'RE OKAY! And GROSS. Your breath seriously stinks bro!"

"That's 'cause I puked into your trash bin." I bluntly replied with after she let go of my neck.

Wendy & Soos were also present by the breakfast table with enlightened faces.

"Dude. That is just sick." Said Soos. "But, like, also awesome because Ford said all your insides are working fine or something."

"Yeah. Somewhere along the lines. How are you feeling little man?" Wendy asked.

I shrugged. "Honestly? Like a headache coming up. You would not believe the dream I just had."

Mabel started poking my bandages. "Did it have a four headed blue dolphin throwing up rainbows?"

"OW. Uh. No. " I slapped Mabel's hand away.

Soos only chuckles, "Dude that looks fun. I wanna poke him too!"

Wendy replied with, "How about a crazy old man with lightning struck hair in a white lab coat?"

"OW. Guys! Seriously stop it-" I gawked at Wendy. "Wait. Yeah. How'd you know?"

Wendy's face turned, she stared at Soos.

Soos was a round dorkish man in his early twenties who acted more like he was in his teenage years depending on the situation. He was a Latino as far I knew. Living with his _abuelita._ I don't how he came to know my Grunkle Stan, or why he would work for him, but the guy worships him for some reason. Soos gave Wendy a two fingered salute. He said something about _Duck-tective_ being on TV  & Mabel should invite her friends over again for a slumber party. Mabel went ballistic & then they vanished into the living room. Then it went silent for a good two solid minutes.

"It wasn't a dream." Wendy simply put it, after they left.

"Great!" I mumbled. "Then the question mark really was chasing me in the dark." I folded my arms.

"What?"

"Uh. Nothing. You were saying?"

"I'm saying that the crazy old drunk guy who thrashed into the gift shop, almost tried to kill you, man!"

I suddenly found it hard to breathe. Oh. I remember now. It wasn't a strange dream. It was a real nightmare. "Kill?" I gulped.

"Oh! But, not to worry. Stan totally came to the rescue." Wendy nodded.

"Stan? Wasn't it Ford who-"

"No. It was totally Stan. He tackled the drunk guy down and starting punching the snot out of him. Ford just shot a couple of tranqualizers, but I swear he had a terrible shot. He totally missed." She paused. "Kind of anyway." Wendy stared at my arms then my neck.

I felt my face burning up. "Oh. That explains the bandages-"

Wendy caught my sentence off as she took me in an embrace. I just about stupidly sputtered every idiotic word known in the dictionary. She let go too soon. "What a day." She sighs. "I'm going to go home now, and think about every little thing that just happened today." She shudders. "Later."

I hysterically waved a hand in the air. "BYE. WENDY!"

* * *

Things were rather quiet later that night. That was only because I haven't heard my Grunkle Stan all evening. I began to wonder where he was. Mabel told me he was with our Great Uncle Ford. Which was very weird, because we both knew that they weren't getting along very well ever since they reunited a couple of weeks ago (one _VERY_ long story). There was some built up tension between them. Now they were suddenly talking? Huh. What was that about?

I couldn't stand the party going on in the living room. There was a massive amount of giggling & squealing. Surprisingly coming from Soos who had the honor of being Mabel's & her friend's fashion victim. If I stayed in the living room any longer I just might've been the next one. So, I went up to our guest bedroom in the attic, grabbed a dark blue hoodie, & decided to return Grunkle Stan's black blazer. Wherever he was.

Turns out he wasn't in the Mystery Shack at all. I caught him approaching the cabin outside the back porch. I was sitting on its old rickety two steps, clutching on my Grunkle Stan's jacket. He looked grim. And I don't mean, like his 'ha ha' usual grim. Stan was rather weary. Dark circles were under his old eyes, & I swear he was trudging more than usual. He was still wearing his 'The Man Of Mystery' work clothes. Minus the black blazer of course. He had his red fezz hat on, black dress pants & shoes. He had loosen his stringy red bowtie, & his white dress shirt appeared to have a lot of dirt smudges, a few thin rips here & there, & a tiny bit of sweat stains. I had the sense something had happened, & it wasn't very pleasant.

"Grunkle Stan!" I exclaimed.

He was so startled to hear me, he flinched, & caught his breath. "JEEZ-It's only you kid!" Stan bit. "What the heck are you doing out here? It's late! Shouldn't you be in bed? And what is with that stupid look?"

I caught myself sheepishly grinning. I wanted to poke at the act of kindness he gave me, but I only held up his blazer. "I just wanted to give this back to you."

"Oh." I could've sworn his expression softened a little when he took his blazer, he held it in his beefy hands & ran his thumbs on the collar. Then his face went all sour again after a few seconds.

"Uh. Thanks for saving me earlier." I said.

Although if Stan heard me I didn't know, his head seemed like it was somewhere else, because all he said was, "What?"

"I said Mabel invited her friends over." I shrugged. "Slumber party. Make overs. Couldn't stand the noise."

Stan only nodded. "Right."

 _Okay?_ I thought. He was starting to bug me now. I cautiously asked, "Are you all right Grunkle Stan?"

Stan scoffed & shook his head. Pretending to have a bright smug expression, like he was back to his usual self. Which bugged me even more.

"I think the question is are _YOU_ okay, kid?" He playfully whacked the side of my bush full of brown hair. "You survived a deathly chokehold from that son of a bitch!" He bellowed a laugh.

I was sort of taken back by his swearing. Not that it was unusual for him, he just never spoke like that in front of Mabel or me. I stifled a small laugh. I guess he was just spooked? "Yeah." I said. "And two tranqualizer darts."

There's that grim expression again. I could see all the years pile onto my Grunkle Stan as he made his way toward the the door. He stopped midway inside, & let's out one heavy sigh. He says, "Seriously though. Don't ever make anyone worry about you so badly like that again, kid. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"Grunkle Stan," I chided.

"Don't stay up too late-" Stan couldn't have made three steps into the kitchen before a sudden burst of wind came down from the porch's ceiling. This wind wasn't a breeze, mind you. It a full blown hurricane, & to top it off, there was a literal a tear in the air. A green swirling vortex. Before anyone asks. No. I am _NOT_ making this up. My Grunkle Stan violently yanked me to his side, for the ceiling above the porch began to make this awful cracking noise. Before either of us knew it, two bodies broke straight through the wooden roof.

I couldn't help the yell that escaped out of me . . . . .

* * *

 **NOTE: For the record, I don't think my writing is better than anyone else's. Okay? You read this clearly? I DON'T THINK MY WRITING IS BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE'S! If it seemed like I gave that impression in my last rant, well, then SHIT! Sorry? I guess. My actual point was, I couldn't find a decent Gravity Falls/Rick & Morty crossover. Story. Thing. So. Yeah.**

 **ANYWAYS. This was the second chapter. Not as interesting as the first, it felt like, but it's better than nothing. Right?**

 **COMMENT, FAVORITE, FOLLOW, SHARE, or WHATEVER. It doesn't really matter, but it'll be greatly appreciated. THANKS FOR READING.**


	3. ICK!

**ENJOY ~**

* * *

 **(DIPPER):**

It was Rick Sanchez.

Rick Sanchez crashed through the Mystery Shack's porch ceiling. Literally falling from a ten foot tear in the sky . . . FROM A GIANT GREEN SWIRLY VORTEX!

The thing quickly vanishes, as it suddenly appeared, along with its hurricane winds, & I could only senselessly gawk at the damage it had just done. No amount of words could describe how I was feeling, but I did knew one thing. My Grunkle Stan didn't take it all that kindly. His grim expression disappeared & he wore more of a full blown stink eye. He had pulled me to his side, gripping on my upper right arm. I swear he clutched it so tightly with his beefy hand, I thought that all of the circulation above my elbow was going to be cut off.

I urged him to let go by tugging on his sleeve with my free hand, "Grunkle Stan. Ow!"

"Stay behind me, kid." Was the only thing he said.

"H-HOLY HELL, MORTY!" Yelled a voice. It came from a pile of moving rubble, kicked by a pair of long bony legs. Between seriously revolting retching noises, he repeated, "HOLY. FUCKING. HELL! I-I-I think I swallowed part of that freaking space kranken's testicle . . . I mean uh . . . _t-tentacle_." More retching. "MORTY! W-Where the hell are you, Morty?" Unless Rick had a serious injury to the head, or something, I had to assume Morty was the name of someone the old guy was looking for.

There was a good solid ten seconds of silence before a groan animated from a different pile of pointy, wooden planks. A scawny arm poke through an opening. "I-I-I'm right here Rick."

Rick stumbles toward the hand struggling to crawl out of its prison. Effortlessly, Rick yanked the arm, & with it came a terrible lanky looking teenaged boy. If I had to take a wild guess, my guess would be that boy was Morty. He couldn't have been more than fourteen to thirteen years old, wearing nothing but a simple yellow tee, jeans, & a pair of white dirt smudged shoes. He looked like someone who had gone through _A LOT_ of crud. Not because of the solid dark circles under his eyes, or his oddly grief stricken tan face, but rather because he looked sleep deprived,  & completely strained. I'd like to think it was because Rick had the guy by his dainty wrist, inches off the ground, but it was more than that. Morty looked seriously hurt. Confirming this, Rick placed a palm on the back of Morty's shoulder blade, & gave it one solid push, making this unsettling _CRACK!_ Following a short cry from Morty.

I shuddered. I swore I felt that from across the setting.

Rick let go of Morty & Morty fell to his knees clutching his shoulder. "Y-Y-You know you could've given me a heads up Rick!" He exclaimed. "That freakin' hurt like hell!"

"Don't even start your bitching, Morty! It wouldn't have made a damn difference if I gave you a heads up. It would've still hurt like hell. Y-You know in most cases like these people would-" A belch. "S-Say a fucking thank you. O-O-Or be remotely grateful! Because you know they traveled practically the whole damn galaxy to rescue your sorry ass from a giant dick of a space squid!"

Morty heaves a sigh. With no sense of appreciation, but rather like he was doing a huge chore, Morty says, "T-Thank you grandpa Rick. I'm really grateful that you rescued me from a giant dick of a space squid."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah-" Another burp. "Whatever, Morty! F-Find me the goddamn portal gun!"

"Um. Rick?"

"What the fuck now?"

Morty stood, pointing at my grunkle Stan & me, finally acknowledging our existance. There was a good long silence before my grunkle Stan had tightened his jaw & then exploded, "WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA WISE GUY? You destroyed my cabin! I thought you said you weren't coming back ever again!"

"Oh my God," Rick responded with a scoff. Emitting a rather loud disgusting burp he said, "I-I must've said a lot of damn things I don't remember saying. Y-You shouldn't take a man so damn seriously when he's freakin' wasted, you know. Y-You of all people should know that, you old fart!"

"WHY I OUGHT'A-" Stan made the mistake of running toward Rick with a fist in the air, only to have himself be flipped over with a single move face first to the ground.

"NOT TODAY YOU OLD BASTARD!" Rick yelled. He had a knee at the base of my Grunkle Stan's spine holding his dominant arm at a very alarming angle behind his back.

I felt an uncomfortable twinge in the center my chest & a heavy wave of hysteria slowly creeping up on me as I watched my Grunkle Stan glaring at Rick with cracked lenses. I really wanted to do something, but I just froze.

Thankfully Morty yelled at Rick, "Wh-Wh-What the hell are you doing Rick? Let him go!"

"A-Are you fucking kidding me Morty? He came at me!"

A short pause. Rather than being terrified, Morty wore more a frustrated expression. Like the horrendous situation was a perfectly typical normal thing he saw everyday. Then his face changed when he looked down at my Grunkle Stan. Worried. "Oh my god Rick!" He exclaimed. "Y-Y-You made him bleed!"

I held my breath. He was right. I caught the string of blood dripping down the side of my Grunkle Stan's head.

"D-D-Did I forget to mention this dick beat the shit out of me earlier?" Rick spat. "I-I-I ought to repay him back damn good for what he did!" He made a fist then & threw it up in the air.

"NO!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. I don't know what came over me, but I sprinted toward the guy in time to seize his wrist with both of my arms before he even got the chance to take a swing at my grunkle Stan. "Don't touch him! Don't you DARE hurt him!"

"Dipper!" Stan exclaimed. "What are hell are you doing? I thought I told you to stay put!"

"Aw geez! Aw no! Come on Rick!" Panicked Morty. "Y-Y-You aren't seriously gonna slug a kid now? Are you?"

The spewed sentence caused Stan to furiously struggle underneath Rick, but Rick was seriously strong for a tall skinny old man, & kept my grunkle Stan in place. Forcing a sob back, I gloweringly pierced a glare at Rick dead in the eye. Obviously I didn't intimidate the guy. Not in the least bit. Because he stared back at me with a complete utter look of boredom.

He scorned then. Loosening the grip on my grunkle Stan's arm, shoving me off his own, & then annoyingly stumbled off with an, "Y-Y-You're just damn lucky I need you to tell me where your nerd ass of a brother is." Then got real close again to my grunkle Stan who was sitting up & said something low in his ear. Something I vaguely made out, but I could've sworn Rick said somewhere on the lines of . . .

". . . and SO damn lucky the kid didn't get to see the REAL freakin' side of you."

* * *

I was forcefully sent back to the Mystery Shack. Good thing too because my sister Mabel, Soos, & company nearly suffocated under a pile of. Well. LIVING ROOM! Not only did Rick Sanchez destroy the back porch with hurricane winds coming from a green swirly vortex, but somehow he managed to leave an internal trail of rubble going through the living room.

Mabel's slumber party was called off. Her friends were slightly freaked out as to what happened just then. Soos offered them a ride into town on the Mystery Shack's golf cart (since the town wasn't so far away). After they left Mabel kept prodding me for answers & flipping her lid. Saying that I ruined her party, that it's going to be forever to catch a re-run of a series she & her friends were watching, & no more good quality TV for a while since it was destroyed in the rubble, & BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. I desperately wanted to tell her everything that had happened with our Grunkle Stan & Rick Sanchez, but then I thought she might get caught up in all the chaos. Worse yet coming up with ludicrous schemes to get back at Rick that might get her hurt. Which terrified me, after what I went through earlier with the chokehold, & tranquilizers. I lied to her. I told Mabel that a pack of wild gnomes went rampant & destroyed the place. She was reluctantly satisfied with the answer. We decided that it was late, that we needed to go to bed, & we'd help Soos fix the living room tomorrow, bright & early.

I couldn't fall asleep.

I kept tossing & turning, staring up at the arched ceiling every so often. My head was heavy & my neck was killing me. No amount of repositioning helped to comfort the chokehold bruises. I think the only thing that helped me to final relax was catching a glimpse of a goofy sleeping expression on my sister's face from her bed. She must've been dreaming about dancing with some boy band, or running around in a pink giant human hamster ball, being the weird sibling that she was. I, for one, get too sleep deprived to even dream anymore. My mind would also be occupied with lots of other things too. Like the fact I started this summer discovering really strange oddities & mysteries lurking in Gravity Falls. They were all recorded in an ominous journal I accidentally found, written by an anonymous author. Which then Mabel & I discovered was connected to our Grunkle Stan, which all lead up to finding out we had a long lost Great Uncle Ford who had written the ominous journal. I'd say that's the highlight of my summer, but it isn't over yet. There's still so many questions unanswered, more piling up, & a whole lot of pent up frustration.

I then get to thinking about what had happened with my Grunkle Stan earlier that night. How he practically couldn't wait to get me away from Rick Sanchez. Stan looked so unnerving. Mad. Scared, even. I was within earshot as I heard Rick demanding Stan to escort him to my Great Uncle Ford, he needed to fix something, & Stan owed it to Rick due to past events. Those events I couldn't comprehend because Stan & Rick trailed off. The last thing I saw were the two old men walking off. Just who in the heck was Rick Sanchez? What did he need fixing? And how is he connected to my two great uncles?

I heaved a sigh. Then closed my eyes.

* * *

 **NOTE: Express a honest opinion & you get a lot of freaking backlash in your inbox afterwards . . . (SIGHS) REALLY?**

 **ANYWAYS.**

 **CHAPTER 3 BITCHES! (COUGHS) Sorry. I mean readers. :l (LOL) All of this Rick is starting rub on me. It's seriously not healthy. Seems like there's some serious turmoil between the old geezers. Any guesses? XD**

 **COMMENT, FAVORITE, FOLLOW, SHARE, or WHATEVER. It doesn't really doesn't matter but it'll be GREATLY appreciated. THANKS FOR READING!**


	4. Bitter Old Men

**ENJOY ~**

* * *

 **DIPPER PINES:**

It couldn't have been more than a hour before I heard faint footsteps in the room Mabel & I shared. My heart immediately started doing an intense jumping routine & I tried to even my breathing as the steps grew closer to the side of my bed. I was about to throw a punch, but by the time I did all I caught was a glimpse of a door closing in front of me. I slid into my sneakers, threw on my blue vest on, & grabbed my blue pine tree hat. Word of advice. If you think there's an intruder breaking into your home, it's best that you keep yourself hidden, call the cops, & never involve yourself in a possible crime scene. I took all of this into consideration when I realized it was already too late. I was following the guy, but only because I was curious as to what he wanted.

The dark, looming, bulky figure went downstairs to the living room, with me slowly on his trail. I was surprised to find that the living room was clean. The disastrous rubble made from the hurricane winds out of a green vortex earlier was organized into neat piles of planks, concrete, & broken furniture. I then quickly saw a big, round, snoring man curled up on the cushions of a missing couch. Oh Soos. The poor guy probably stayed up half the night cleaning up. If I didn't think that we were possibly in danger I would've probably woken him up & tell him to go sleep in the extra guest bedroom. I was lead to the Mystery Shack's gift shop by the unknown figure. The were lights on.

Odd.

Who in their right mind would want to possibly be caught drifting in a gift shop around 3 AM in the morning? There wasn't anything important there. Just inventory already stocked for the people who would get caught in the tourist trap. A museum full of lame, fake, supposedly 'legendary' creatures. None of which were compared to the real monsters lurking in Gravity Falls. Grunkle Stan would take any profit made, put it in a heavily locked safe in his office, & made sure that the safe was always two rooms away fromthe gift shop. I slowly crept toward the entrance & squinted once I peered through the door that was conveniently open by a few inches.

I wasn't surprised to find an intruder, but rather an old man probably in his late 50's, wearing rimmed horn glasses, a brown trench coat, black pants & boots. He held a dark red field journal in his beefy pair of hands both which consisted an extra finger. Great Uncle Ford. I patted down my vest realizing he took the journal that I had. That might've explained who was lurking in the room Mabel & I shared. I clicked my tongue. I knew it wasn't mine, but I had formed some sort of personal attatchment to the journal. It was the same one I found when I first came to Gravity Falls, Oregon. It had made what I thought to believe a ruined summer into a better one. Why did my Great Uncle Ford need it back? I almost let out a sighof relief until I heard the start of a gruesome argument. Grunkle Stan & a voice I've come to known as Rick Sanchez. What was Rick still doing here?

"MY fault?" Stan shouts. "How is this ANY of MY fault? You should be pointing fingers at Poindexter over there! He built the damn thing & refused to destroy it in the first place!"

I heard a belch which I can only assume was Rick. "OH! Right. My mistake. Y-Y-You're BOTH fucking idiots messing with things that you can't even begin to understand in your similar thinking, overcooked, shit for brains!"

"YOU WANNA GO, STRING BEAN?" Stan balled his fists in the air.

"B-B-Bring it on you neanderthal!"

"STANLEY! Don't you DARE throw that fist!" My Great Uncle Ford interrupted. "And Sanchez, please! Stop provoking my brother into meaningless fights & stop using such foul language in front of the child." He then heaves a sigh.

For a brief panicking moment I thought Ford had discovered me behind the gift shop's door, but then I heard a very whiny, grief stricken voice, "It's all right. Y-You get use to it." A teenaged boy no older than me was standing by the cashier counter. He was wearing a plain yellow short sleeved tee, jeans, & white dirt smudged shoes. He seriously looked tired because of the dark circles under his eyes, he also looked distressed, holding his upper arm like it was in pain.

Great Uncle Ford frowned. "Not under this roof!" He said. "Morty, my dear boy, how is your shoulder?"

It looked like he had a lot of effort to form a smile on his face. Morty replied with, "Still sore." Before he could say anything else Rick got in between.

"He's FINE." He let's out a belch & says, "Now are y-y-you gonna get this shit show started? Or what?"

"Honestly Sanchez. I can't believe you! How dare you involve your grandson, who is in such pain, in dangerous things, like one of your many galaxy wide known hair brained schemes, knowing he could be killed? Have you no shame?"

I thought Rick was going to slug my Great Uncle Ford with the threatening look he gave him, but Rick simply pulled a sleep deprived Morty with him toward a vending machine & said, "Like this."

"He needs to have that shoulder taken care of!"

"Y-Yeah. Popping a few pain pills should do JUST the trick."

"He needs X-RAYS & support for that shoulder!"

"FOR THE LOVE OF MY NON-EXISTANT GOD!" Rick had let go of his grandson, & grabbed my Great Uncle Ford by the neck.

Sensing the building tension I started to shake.

"L-L-Listen you freakin' six fingered freak!" Rick burps. "You don't tell me how to take care of my grandson. All right? Y-Y-You don't hear me blabbing about YOUR nephew or niece." A second belch. "H-H-How is he by the by? Your nephew? Must looking pretty handsome with gauze on his freakin' neck!"

Ford didn't say anything. For a brief moment he looked worried. Like he was trying to figure out if Rick had threaten him in some way by using Mabel & I in Rick's sentence.

I was about ready to get in between Rick & my Great Uncle Ford. I didn't want the same thing happening to Ford like it did to my Grunkle Stan, when he got pinned down by Rick & started bleeding. Ford didn't look at all phased by the fact that he was being held by the neck with a single bony hand. He actually looked angry. Which was more than I was. I could've sworn I started hyperventilating.

Stan finally came in, shoved Rick off of Ford, & gave Rick one awful look of pure hatred. Something I've never seen from Stan before.

"You're right." Stan said in an odd, low, calm voice. "My idiot brother can't tell you how to treat your grandson." Then Stan got seriously up close & personal with Rick glaring him straight in the eye. "But you-YOU aren't allowed to mention our niece or nephew from a single foul breath you take. EVER again. Are we clear?"

There was a good solid ten seconds of silence right before my Great Uncle Ford cleared his throat. He was next to the vending machine with a slightly less tired, more spooked Morty at his side. The vending machine acts as a door to a hidden underground lab. Someone had to unlock it with a specific passcode. How did I know this? Accidentally, actually. When my sister Mabel & I thought it was the end of the world because our Grunkle Stan was a highly wanted dangerous criminal, building a doomsday device underneath the Mystery Shack.

"Sanchez." Ford begins. "You've been seeking my help to repair the interference with your intra-dimensional opening device, correct?"

"UGH! Portal gun." Rick scoffs. Not really regarding my Grunkle Stan's glare, he simply walks past him & says to my Great uncle Ford, "God damn. Y-You're such a fucking nerd. It's more like I want your tools to fix my shit."

"Enough fooling around then."

Rick rolls his eyes as he made his way to the lab down the secret staircase behind the vending machine's entrance. I've completely forgotten about Morty until he apologized for his grandfather's behavior, my Great Uncle Ford only regarded Morty with a half hearted smile. Morty then followed Rick's lead & sleepily went down the stairs. Once their footsteps stopped echoing, Great Uncle Ford turned, facing my Grunkle Stan with a seldom look of sadness.

"Thank you . . . Stanley." Ford said. "For intervening."

Stan only crossed his arms. "You might've learned a few tricks to over throw me, but learn how to stop being someone else's punching bag."

Ford gripped his field journal in his left hand so hard his knuckles turned white. All six of them. He opened & closed his mouth three times before deciding what to say. I could feel the years of bitterness, guilt, & uncomfort between my two great uncles. They've recently reunited after a few very long, very intense, decades & they can't even speak a few sentences to each other (a story with WAY too many details to tell in just a couple of words). It was kinda heartbreaking & scary to say the least. My sister Mabel was worried if she & I might end up like them. Never talking to each other. Always avoiding being in the same room together. I told her that could never happen. We got along pretty well with each other compared to our uncles & our fights were pretty meaningless most of the time. It would take a lot to break our bond, but sometimes I have to wonder . . . if that's true?

I frowned at the thought.

Ford shook his head & forced a smile. "Does that mean you admit that I'm now stronger than you , Stanley?"

Stan scoffs, "In your dreams Poindexter!"

A soft chuckle escapes from my Great Uncle Ford. "I would think not."

"I'm going to bed." Stan sighs. "I better not see that son of a bitch when I wake up later."

I immediately flipped my lid as I heard Stan walk up to the gift shop's entrance. I was literally two steps away from the stairs leading up to the attic, before I tripped on an old musty rug I've never noticed before. My face planted the floor with a THUMP! If that didn't get me trouble then . . . Ohhh boy.

"Actually, Stanley," I heard my Great Uncle Ford say. Which made Grunkle Stan stop in his tracks. He had the gift shop's door wide open, but I had quickly hidden behind a broken piece of furniture nearby before he could notice me lying on the floor. I could vaguely make out their voices, but they were so deep they were clear as day.

"I could use your help." Ford said.

I could only imagine the look of disbelief on Stan's face. "MY help? With what?"

"Opening the portal . . . "

* * *

 **NOTE (MORE LIKE RANT): It's been a while. Like. YEARS and a couple of months long. :l**

 **I've grown so bored with life and watching immense amounts of cartoons and TV shows that I've switched back to reading books and terribly written fan fiction. Mostly MY terribly written fan fiction, but I do like THIS terribly written piece of work. So. I added a new chapter.**

 **I think I might've dragged this chapter a little too long, but I hope I made everyone's motives clear.**

 **\- Dipper wants to know who the hell Rick is, why he knows Stan & Ford**

 **\- Rick want his portal gun fixed, there's some interferences going on with his dimension traveling**

 **\- Stan surprisingly doesn't want any trouble, he wants to keep Dipper & Mabel away from Rick**

 **\- Ford as you know by the end, wants to re-open his portal**

 **\- AND I WANT SOME STANCHEZ FLUFF HAPPENING SOON -COUGH- Kidding. Mostly. :l (Kinda got pulled in by the fan base)**

 **ANYWAYS. COMMENT, FAVORITE, FOLLOW, SHARE, or WHATEVER. Doesn't really matter to me, BUT IT'LL BE SERIOUSLY APPRECIATED. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING.**


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